Flee

by Caroline Gebbie

  The creature turned his head and looked to its master, eager to please. As it did a small amount of drool dripped from its rodentian teeth, and fell. It dropped towards her, glistening in the light, and seemed to take forever to cover the three floor descent. She saw it fall, mesmerized as if a diamond was dropping towards her. Her eyes followed it as it travelled. It seemed infinitely slow, a jewel riding the air as it passed each level. And then she heard the splash. The drool hit the floor, and then bounced upwards, before falling back to land on her pristine marble. As it landed, on her floor, her beautiful floor, marring it with its disgusting filth, the world restarted for her. She came out of her trance and ran, racing across the room.

  She kicked her legs and pushed herself forwards as fast as she could. Her feet slipped on the hard floor and she scrabbled to keep herself upright. Heading for the door, she raced as fast as she could, knowing the creature would be coming for her. Each step was one closer to the door, but this was a big room and she was not even half way. She felt, more than heard the rush of air as the beast swooped from above like an apparition from hell. Felt the breeze on her body, her hair lifted by its passing. She heard its shriek. Of wrath, or anticipation, she did not know which. Her feet slipped on the floor, as she desperately lurched towards the door and escape. Her heart was pounding, and her head was spinning, and all the while she remembered that night. “No,” she screamed, forcing herself to keep her mind on the door. The creature had less distance to travel than her, but it had waited for instructions and Doris had a good head start. Would it be good enough?

  She darted left and right, feeling the air movement, caused by the hell bat swooping down to impale her. Its claws snatched at her shoulder, but missed as she darted left away from it. It tagged her blouse with one of its talons, sending needles of pain into her shoulder, but she ducked and ran on. Gasping for breath, she watched as it hit the marble and rolled over and over, before crashing with an angry shriek against the yellow wall. She could see the wall through its body. Run Doris, just ignore it and run.

  The beast was up almost instantly and coming towards her. She twisted and turned, on the slippery marble, hearing the whoosh of air and the shrieks of rage as the bat maneuvered to keep her in its sights. She was thrown forward, as its taloned feet finally struck her shoulder. Wheeling her arms to prevent herself from going down, a groan escaped her lips. Surprised there was no pain, she regained her footing, just as the claws reacquired her shoulder and scooped her off the floor.

  She was hauled upwards, in a dizzying flight, her shoulders numb her feet swinging uselessly. It pulled her up effortlessly towards the balcony. They passed the first level. She swung out desperately with her legs hoping to hook them over the rail. The pain bit as the bats talons curled inwards to prevent her from falling. She shrieked with rage, she would not let this happen, but she was tiring, was losing hope. How could anyone escape a terror so powerful? Trying to struggle or strike out just increased her pain and seemed to sink the claws deeper into her flesh. Was this the end? Had he finally come back to finish off the job he started so many years before? She let her limbs hang numbly down. Upwards, the animal carried her, cawing and shrieking its triumph, drowning out her own screams.

  At last it stopped. Doris was suspended in front of the Numen, her legs and arms dangled helplessly. Her own blood was running from the wounds in her shoulders mixing in with the blood from Helen that already stained her once pristine blouse. Her head hung forwards, in pain and shock. She forced herself to look at him. She met his eyes, with as much courage and contempt as she could muster.

  “Why?” she spat. “Why did you do this?”

  He smiled a calm empty smile that caused a shudder to run down her back. “For power, and to prove who was the strongest, besides Jenny, is important to me and her father.” He laughed. The sound seemed to rattle her teeth and set her nerves screaming. Jenny, damn it how can I help Jenny?

  “Her father would never have agreed to my wonderful plans for gorgeous little Jenny.” He placed a mocking emphasis on the word father.

  ”You creep, you leave Jenny out of this, or I swear I will kill you”

  He smirked at Doris, and reached out a hand to caress her. She pulled back repulsed as his blood soaked fingers stroked fondly across her cheek.

  “Funny little Doris, being so brave, who would have thought. But I would worry about what was going to happen to me if I was you.” He nodded at the creature. It raised its head, and flexing the huge papery wings sped upwards towards the dome. Doris screamed, as the glass roof came closer and closer. Were they to smash into it? She renewed her struggles, ignoring the pain and knowing that to loosen the beasts grip would mean falling to her death. She struggled, weaving her legs, trying to reach up and beat the creature. Still they rushed upwards towards the dome, faster and faster. At impact, the roof exploded, glass falling past Doris to clatter and tinkle onto the marble below. Doris passed out, as the creature banked right and turned away from the house.

  The Numen stood, surveying the scene. “What a day.” He smiled, grinning with satisfaction. His most powerful opponents had been sacrificed to Aldona. The increase in his capability, still powered through him, it made every cell of his body aware. He could feel his blood, coursing through his veins, feel the muscles of his body, he could even feel impending immortality. There were just a few more days to go until he became, until Saturday. He had not intended to make his move this early, but Alex had got suspicious, had smelt his desires, and besides killing his friend had been fun. All these years he had put up with the insufferable bore, killing is wrong -- blah blah bloody blah.

  In the end the kill had been easier than he expected, his friend had been suspicious but still trusting. What a fool. Now all he needed to do was acquire Jenny and wait.

  Saturday, he would fulfill his destiny and become immortal.

  Stood there, his head thrown back he could feel the molecules around him and knew he could control some of them. The rush was amazing. With his eyes closed and a huge grin on his face, he savored the moment, enjoyed his triumph until he heard a Dog bark in the distance. He opened his eyes, a furrow creased his brow, was the bark inside the house? Now What?

  Chapter Four

  Jenny turned the car off the twisty roads and onto the gravel driveway to Raseby Manor. Situated deep in the Lincolnshire countryside, it was a beautiful house, surrounded by endless green fields, which rolled into the distance, like patchworks quilts left out to air. The house nestled in glorious kaleidoscope gardens. Roses rambled against the walls, crimson, pink and bright yellow, all interspersed with foxgloves and hollyhocks in deep purples and magnificent blues.

  As the tires crunched their way across the golden stones, Jenny smiled at the wondrous garden, her mother’s pride and joy. She pulled the Volvo to a stop. Its tire’s slipped momentarily in the gravel before settling in front of the gargantuan house.

  She turned in her seat, and smiled at Rosie.

  “Come on pooch,” she said and climbed out of the car. Rosie leapt into the front and out of the door, landing nimbly on her front paws before racing up to the house. She was a streak of muscle covered in brindle fur of reds, and browns like autumn leaves in all their glory.

  Jenny always felt at home when she came here, with the old walls, solid and secure, and good memories of a time when life was simpler.

  She closed the car door. The solid clunk seemed to issue a warning as she turned towards the house. A feeling of dread almost had her turning back, she was no longer sure this was a good idea.

  She ran her hands through shoulder length blonde hair and pushed it back behind her ears. They felt sticky. She wiped them down her T-shirt, straitening the material over her black jeans. Mom always told her she should dress more feminine, but black jeans and a top were so comfy.

  “Well, I’ll just have to do,” she said to herself, putting on a smile as she headed towards the house. Her trainers crunched as they sank into the gravel, and she no
ticed all the lights were on. That was unusual; her parents were very energy conscious, only lighting the rooms they were using. Maybe they were having a party, she thought, and hoped not. Some of their friends were a little out there.

  Her mind went back to Simon, and she could almost see him, tall, arrogant and very British. For a young man, he dressed conservatively, formal trousers and shirt, sometimes even a tie. It seemed strange for someone involved in magic to be so old fashioned. She sighed. A sound like the wind rattling dry branches seemed to escape with her breath.

  Something had not been right recently. She knew he had fought with her dad, and that Simon had a secret or two, he didn’t want her them to know. Was this why they wanted her to learn some spells? Well, never mind, because she had decided to agree. With the decision made, a weight seemed to leave her and a smile came unbidden to her face.

  Reaching the door, she found Rosie waiting patiently. Her big brown eyes adoringly fixed on the door, waiting for the hugs she knew would come. Jenny stroked the brindle head of the huge boxer, her rock since a messy divorce. At the touch of the hand, Rosie looked round at her mistress. Her wrinkled face was dark brown with a white patch between big, expressive eyes. Her cold black nose eagerly pushed into Jenny’s waiting hands. Her solid, muscular body shook with anticipation. Called a tiger striped brindle, her coat was alternating shades of brown and red hair, the red as deep as a fox’s fur, the brown the color of walnuts. Jenny loved her coat accentuated by four white socks and a white chest, which were the only parts you could see in the dark. Gentle, loving and a great guard dog, woe betide the man who got in Rosie’s way.

  Her brown eyes watched Jenny’s face. She knew her mistress was worried, and she whined gently, offering support. Jenny stroked the soft ears, and ran her fingers down the white hair between her eyes, and scratched the spot just above her snub boxer nose. Rosie grunted with pleasure before scratching at the dark green door and demanding entrance.

  Knocking, they walked in. Rosie pushed past before the door was half open and trotted through. The smell of lilies wafted out as Jenny entered the hall-way, but there was something else. A metallic smell, one of dad’s spells perhaps? The house was as quiet as a monastery. Jenny closed the door.

  Rosie had stopped in the corridor, her body tense, on high alert. A low rumble of thunder, uttered from deep within her throat, all the more threatening for being so quiet.

  “What is it girl?” Jenny asked.

  She walked past the dog, stroking her silken head as she passed into the kitchen. That smell again, coppery and bitter, it made her feel light headed. Rosie overtook her and then stopped. Her hackles raised and a low growl emanating from her muzzle.

  “Come on girl, you’re scaring me,” Jenny said as she walked deeper into the kitchen.

  She jumped backwards reflectively, drawing in a shocked breath as she noticed dirty footprints on the floor. Was it dirt? They were a reddish brown and she felt dread slice through her stomach with an ice cold knife. Her breath seemed to stop and a lump formed in her throat. She felt drawn onwards and was unable to stop. She advanced with small anxious steps and walked robotically deeper into the room.

  So much blood, with trails heading off into the hallway behind her and it was so quiet, what was going on?

  As she breached the breakfast bar, she spotted her mum on the floor, surrounded by all that blood. Goosebumps rose on her arms and a spider of fear ran down her spine. Rosie stood solid, tense, she also felt danger.

  Her mum was, a porcelain island floating on a crimson sea, so peaceful - yet so dead. Jenny dashed forwards, through that sea of blood, and bent to search for a pulse. A sob escaped her. She knew in her heart, her mum was dead. Dead, how can she be dead? We only spoke on the phone yesterday.

  Dropping to her knees, she knelt forward. Her black leggings sank into the warm sticky pool surrounding the body. She reached out, grabbed the pale wrist and searched for a pulse. The wrist was cool, clammy. She kept running her fingers over her mum’s veins, desperate to feel the spark of life. She studied her mum's face. Her lifeless eyes were glassy, they stated death emphatically.

  Jenny saw an indentation in her mum’s head that was matted with blood. This was what killed her, she knew. Her hand flew to her mouth, a cry escaping her and gorge rose in her throat. Tears pooled in eyes that till recently had matched her mothers and she fought hard to keep this evening’s chili in her stomach where it belonged.

  “Oh god, mum, no,” she mumbled, leaning forward, hugging the limp and pliable figure. Her arms embraced the cold, lifeless body. Her head rested on her mum’s cheek. Hot salty tears fell from her eyes, onto her mother’s pale face. She laid there hugging her, squeezing, offering comfort, tears coursing down her face. “Who did this?” She could feel the pain in her chest as if a knife had been stabbed deep into her heart. The pressure it caused made it hard to draw breath. Resting on her mum, she sobbed.

  She laid there for what seemed like hours, but was in reality only minutes. Her dad? The thought cut through her grief, and she bolted upright. Dragging herself to her feet, she searched the room.

  “Oh no,” she moaned. He was lying on his back, just five feet away. Strangely, there was no blood near him.

  She started towards him across the floor, skidding and stumbling on the slippery marble. “Dad, Dad, oh my god are you ok?”

  He was so pale, except for a red gash where his throat used to be, the wound was raw, obscene. Like a vicious mouth, gaping from his neck, but there was so little blood? Jenny gagged again, clutching her stomach as pain cramped her like a punch. She recognized this cut, knew what it meant. His blood was drained during his death, and used in a ritual, but what ritual? None she knew of used human blood. And who could harm her parents? They were the most powerful of the mages. Except maybe Simon? Damn it, she thought, now I know what Simon was hiding.

  Did he do this? He had been their friend for a long time, but she knew there was tension, and maybe this was why her parents wanted to warn her? Why didn’t she listen? Sinking back onto her haunches, Jenny rocked, hand to her head. She wailed and shrieked out her grief and confusion. Her animalistic cries filled the room. Rosie sidled up to her, offering the comfort of a warm body. She pushed her nose under Jenny’s arm and sat next to her, quiet for now, but watchful.

  Jenny stopped rocking and tentatively reached forward to check her dad’s pulse, but another sob escaped her. There was no point. He was dead, was probably dead before he hit the floor. She leaned forward and reached out to close his eyes. His skin was clammy, colder than her mum but still warm. “Oh, God.”

  She sat still and grabbed Rosie, pulling her close. Tears streamed down her face, and onto the dog. Rosie shook in sympathy with her mistress, as the two sought comfort in contact.

  Rosie pulled away from her mistress and started to growl. She barked out a warning and faced the door leading into the house.

  They heard a crash of breaking glass from the other side of the building. Rosie jumped forwards and trotted towards the sound, her hackles raised and her deep bark warned of danger.

  Jenny sat up and fear joined the other emotions going round in her mind. She scoured the room looking for signs of danger. Was the killer still here? The room seemed so normal, remove the bodies and the blood and it was just a kitchen. Oak units, yellow walls, the fridge buzzed quietly behind her, there was nothing to allow her to understand the death of her parents.

  Rosie stared at the kitchen door, her posture square on full alert. The noise had sounded like glass breaking under considerable force. Jenny listened but all she could hear was the deep growl from the dog and her heart pounding.

  Doris. The thought entered Jenny’s mind, and fresh fear spidered down her spine. Was Doris’s car outside when she came in? She couldn’t recall. Normally Doris would be out at this time. God I hope she is, Jenny thought.

  As she turned around, she spotted writing on the end of the breakfast bar “Jenny this is about you, FLEE, get to Simon
, Hide.”

  “No.” The one word portrayed anguish and despair. Crawling back to the breakfast bar, she touched the words, her finger came away red and sticky.

  “Oh, Mum, Oh, God, no.” She stroked her mum’s hand, noticing her fingers covered in blood. Tears streamed down her face, falling onto the blood, leaving little indentations in the lake of crimson, like stones thrown into the water.

  Rosie’s growl took on a new urgency, the sound deepened. Her hackles raised, she stared at the far end of the kitchen. Jenny jumped up, anger joining her maelstrom of emotions. Maybe whoever did this was hiding.

  She ran towards the door, pushing a wooden kitchen chair out of her way. It bounced on the wall and fell back to the floor with a dry, hollow rattle that seemed to mock her.

  “Where are you, you bloody coward? Come out and face me,” she shouted at the closed door, before exhaustion seemed to pull heavily at her. The outburst ended as she fell to her knees and wept uncontrollably. Rosie sidled back towards her and stood guard, wary of the door.

  A door slammed at the front of the house and she heard a car pulling up in the driveway behind them. The intruder must have left the house. She relaxed, and the tears streamed down her face as she hugged her stomach. A sick empty feeling filled her with despair. Rosie ceased her barking and pushed her nose into her mistress’s hair. She whined softly, as if she too knew the danger was gone.

  Jenny hauled herself off the floor. The car would be Doris. She headed for the back door to intercept her. She wouldn’t let Doris witness this carnage. She glanced back at the bodies... Bodies, she thought it seemed so sterile. She knew if she did not move soon she would lose control.

  She exited the kitchen into the hallway, intending to cut Doris off, but it was Robert, her parents’ financial advisor and an old friend, who walked jauntily towards her down the marble hall.